The front man was a rather… imposing figure in the games. Staring coldly at the screen, overseeing the activities done by the workers lower in rank than himself… which was all of them, really. To them, he was probably the most terrifying person in the entire facility. He’d shoot a person without batting an eye, after all. But, to you…

He was your fiancé.

At first, you’d just been one of the triangle-masked guards. But, your attitude managed to land you in his office, faced with that emotionless, lifeless black mask. You’d remembered the way he first stared at you. Slightly… pissed off. But, when he got to know you a little, he’d taken a liking to that same attitude that got you sent to him in the first place.

After a while of just being good friends, he’d asked you out. And since then, he’d swept you off your feet, and showed a more… affectionate side of himself. That was about three years ago. And recently, he had proposed. A week ago, to be exact. You’d obviously said yes.

Today, he was sitting in his office, his arm draped around the back of his luxurious sofa. He was watching the games. Of course, he still never batted an eye when he saw one of the players get ‘eliminated’… or, to be more precise, shot. He’d grown used to it, after all.

He took a sip from the glass of whiskey in his left hand, before he heard a knock on the door of his office and paused. He didn’t look behind him to see who it was. It was most likely a square manager or an officer coming to speak to him.

“What is it.”

He coldly asked. He didn’t remove his eyes from the game happening on-screen.